


can't start a fire without a spark

by molgera (orphan_account)



Category: Game Grumps
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-18 02:13:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3552185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/molgera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan is the ornery waiter with his life in shambles at a 24-hour diner working the night shifts to get by. Arin is an art student studying illustration and animation whose roommate has his girlfriend over way too much. [unfinished]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. January 21st

**Author's Note:**

> I started this when I was really into Game Grumps and have since stopped watching for a bunch of reasons. I hate leaving things unfinished, but I know if I tried it would come across as pretty heartless cause I'd be writing about people I no longer hold interest in. I wasn't sure if it was worse to delete it or leave it up unfinished, but I figured I'd just orphan it. Sorry to any who were invested in this (as invested as anyone could be for 2 chapters) I really wanted to make this work but life and school got in the way and my interests change like the seasons. Thanks for reading and commenting, and sorry if I've let anyone down. If anyone wants to take this idea and run with it do feel free.

"Avidan, break’s over!” barked a stout middle-aged man. Dan groaned audibly. His boss Lionel was decent enough, he just hated this job. Serving at a diner was the same thing, day in and day out, and the night shifts were hell.

“No more whining, unless you want to be out of a job, eh? And do _try_ to smile, you’ll make better tips.” Lionel turned on his heel and headed back to the front register.

Dan gave one last exasperated sigh before getting up to wait some of the new tables that had just been seated. As far as jobs go, Dan figures it could be worse. At least this kept him pretty busy, instead of sitting somewhere for hours every day. The thing is, he was in his early thirties now and he didn’t want to be doing this forever—this was supposed to be temporary, but he felt like he was trapped in limbo, though he didn’t know when or if he’d ever get to leave.

Some days he wondered how he managed to keep going. Every day it was the same routine—work, smoke, sleep, wake up and do it all again. Lather, rinse, repeat. It wasn’t much of a way to live.

Sometimes Dan would get lucky and hit it off with a customer. Everyone who came into the diner at two o’clock in the morning had a story to tell. Dan thrived off of it—listening to middle-aged men lament lost loves, young college kids excitedly telling him their next big idea that they were so certain was going to take off. He was too kind to squash their youthful optimism.

It was a Thursday night and Dan had the late shift again. He had another 3 hours before he could go home, and was already thinking about how much he’d rather be in bed.

Dan looked around and noticed a kid sitting alone in the booth against the far wall perusing the menu. He realized no one had gone over to ask what he wanted to drink, so he made his way across the room.

“Hey, kid, can I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll have you know I’m 23, thanks,” he says, feigning annoyance, “but yeah, coffee and a glass of water would be great.” Dan liked this guy already.

“Sure thing, I’ll be right back.”

Unfortunately, on his way out of the kitchen one of the other waiters collided with him, causing him to spill hot coffee all the way down the front of his apron. _Great_ , he thought to himself, _just what I needed_. He swapped out his soaked apron for another one, and got another cup of coffee to bring to the guy in the booth.

When Dan finally returned, the guy had a notebook out and was sketching furiously.

“Sorry about the long wait, someone bumped into me and I got coffee all over myself. Embarrassing, I know,” Dan found himself fumbling for an apology, feeling bad that it took so long to do something so simple.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, seriously, I’ve got nowhere to go anytime soon. I’m Arin, by the way,” he said, carefully tucking his notebook away in his bag.

Dan points at his nametag, “I’m Dan… but you probably already gathered that.”

Arin laughs. “Yeah, I saw you getting reamed by your boss earlier. That a regular thing?”

“Not exactly. Maybe, I don’t know,” Dan snorts, “anyhow, can I get you anything?”

“Oh, yeah. Two eggs scrambled, home fries, and rye toast. Thanks.” Arin smiles at him as he hands the menu back to Dan. He turns around before heading into the kitchen with Arin’s order and sees that he’s sketching again. 

The kitchen cooks work fast, and it’s not even ten minutes before Dan’s on his way back to Arin’s table with his food.

“Here you go,” Dan says, setting the food down on the table. “Anything else I can get you?”

“More coffee, if it’s not too much trouble,” Arin smiled teasingly, but Dan knew he didn’t mean anything by it.

“You got it.”

Dan returned with a pot of coffee, refilling Arin’s cup and setting some individual creamers on the table.

“What are you sketching? If it’s okay to ask, I mean,” Dan shifts on his feet, while Arin closes his notebook again.

“People, mostly. I come here late nights because my roommate always has his girlfriend over for sex and I have to get work done. I’m in art school doing illustration and animation. I just come here to practice drawing cause everyone’s so different, y’know? Every face has a story. Some people think late-night diner regulars are weird, but I love them. I had a conversation with a guy last week who used to work for NASA, how cool is that?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard some amazing stories working here, it kind of makes it worth it sometimes,” Dan laughs halfheartedly, “Anyhow, I’ll leave you to it,” he says, gesturing at the plate of food.

Dan went to wait on other tables, but he couldn’t get Arin out of his mind. By the time he had taken the orders for three other tables and brought them their drinks, Arin had finished his meal.

“Anything else I can get you?” Dan already felt a pang in his chest; something about Arin was so captivating. He didn’t want to see him go.

“Just the check, I think. Maybe one last cup of coffee before I go.”

Dan came back with the check, refilling Arin’s coffee cup once more.

“Have a good night, and stay warm out there.”

It was unusually cold for Manhattan in January. Dan loved the city, but he yearned for warmth and sunshine, and when summer hit New York, it was just unbearably humid.

“You too,” Arin said, giving him one last smile.

When Dan went back to collect the tip from the table he found that Arin had not only left him a very generous tip, but a sketch from his notebook, folded in half with his messy scrawl on it—“Hope I see you again sometime”—followed by what Dan presumed was his name, scribbled hastily. Dan unfolded the piece of paper and saw that the drawing was of him. Arin had sketched him leaning against the bar counter looking bored. Dan tucked it away into his apron for safekeeping.

He went back to take care of his other tables, but he had a hard time focusing on anything else for the rest of the night. All he could think about was Arin’s smile, and the fact that Arin drew him. Dan wondered how long Arin had been looking at him. Until his shift was over, Dan’s thoughts were preoccupied with when Arin would be back at the diner. When Lionel asked if he could pick up a double next Thursday, he said yes without hesitation.

This definitely wasn’t good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rating may change as things progress, if it does I'll update it accordingly.


	2. February 4th

The second time Arin comes into the diner is two weeks later. Dan thought he was never coming back, and when he sees him sitting in the same corner booth as last time digging into an omelette he has to try not to seem overeager. 

“Hey, I was wondering if you were ever coming back. I mean, not that I was expecting it or anything, y’know…” Dan trails off, glancing down at his feet. “I really loved that drawing you did. Thanks again, by the way.”

“Yeah, I got really sick, and then I had a bunch of stuff due… everything kind of piled up. I missed being here, honestly. It’s silly, maybe, but whenever I’m here I just feel relaxed. It’s nice to be back.” Arin took another bite of his omelette and looked back up at Dan, unsure of what to say. He was grateful Dan didn’t take much longer before speaking up again.

“I’m actually on my break right now, do you mind if I sit?”

“Not at all, to be honest the company is a nice change. I like being here alone but y’know… after a while you start to feel lonely.” Dan silently wondered if Arin was seeing anyone, not that it mattered. He was just curious. It definitely wasn’t because Dan thought Arin was good looking or anything.

Arin pulled out his sketchbook and flipped to a blank page. Dan noticed his nails were painted a light pink, a change from the last time.

“Cool nails, did you paint them yourself?”

“Yeah, it’s always the worst trying to paint my right hand, though,” Arin laughs, “hey, do you mind if I sketch you again? Your hair is really fun to draw.”

Dan’s face flushes red as he nods, “Sure, yeah. I don’t have to stay still or anything, right?”

“Nah,” Arin laughs again. “So what do you do when you’re not doing this?”

“Uh, honestly not much. I work and I sleep, that’s pretty much it. I mean, I sing, if that counts, but it’s not like it’s gotten me anywhere,” Dan sighs deeply and rests his head in his hands.

“What kind of stuff do you sing?” Arin’s looking at his notebook as he talks, shading in the contours of Dan’s face.

“I was in two bands but we never really hit it off, I just finished touring with my last band but we decided to go separate ways, I guess. No real reason, it’s not like there was bad blood or anything, I think we just realized it was going nowhere,” Dan’s eyes look distant when he says the last few words. It doesn’t take long for Arin to piece together how much music must mean to Dan, and that this diner thing was just a means to an end.

“What were the names of your bands? I’d love to listen to your stuff sometime.” The sincerity in Arin’s voice threw Dan for a loop—this witty, talented guy he’s seen around the diner a couple times is genuinely interested in his life. Dan doesn’t know how to react.

“God, I’m too embarrassed. Maybe another time,” Dan glances at the clock before going on, “I actually have to get back to work, but it was really nice sitting with you for a while. Like, really nice. Maybe we can do this again sometime.” Dan immediately realizes how stupid that sounds. It’s not like this was a date or anything. He’s just a waiter in his thirties, and Arin’s a talented art student with his whole future ahead of him. In the back of his mind he hears his mother’s voice telling him to stop being so melodramatic.

Dan scoots out of the booth and looks at Arin once more before returning to work. A party of six had just walked in and he was pretty sure they were all drunk. He was even surer that he was going to end up waiting on them. Dealing with customers who lacked the decency to tip because they were too intoxicated only made him more bitter about being a server, but he risks one last glance back at Arin and it gives him enough strength to keep going.

Every shitty table he waited on was one closer to seeing Arin’s face again, and no matter how ridiculous it seemed to Dan that he was so enraptured by this guy he hardly knew, he decided that as long as he had a reason to keep going that it was good enough.

Dan jolts out of his reverie to focus his attention back on Arin. “See you around sometime?”

“Absolutely.” Arin smiled at Dan again. “Hey, if you want the drawing, I’m gonna finish it and leave it on the table here. I’ll tell the waiter to leave it here for you.”

Dan is too flustered to reply, so he smiles at Arin again in thanks, and makes his way over to take drink orders from the party that had just been seated. Dan glances back at Arin a few times over the course of the next hour, feeling his cheeks grow warm as he noticed how Arin bit his bottom lip when he was focusing really hard on his drawings. By the time 3:00 am rolled around and Dan looked over towards Arin’s booth, he was gone.

The diner had cleared out a little, and Dan was only waiting on four tables. He had a few minutes before the kitchen was done with his orders, so he made his way over to Arin’s booth and picked the folded paper off the table and tucked it into his apron. He decided to wait to look at it until after his shift when he got home. As he headed back towards the kitchen his coworker Barry stopped him.

“Your boyfriend over there was really cute.”

Dan flushes red. “He’s not my boyfriend, he’s just a friend, Barry, relax.”

“Oh, I dunno, you two looked pretty cozy on your break before,” he teased.

Dan huffs in annoyance. “Is it a crime to socialize with the customers, now? Isn’t that part of our job?”

“No need to get defensive,” Barry says, putting his hands up, “anyhow, I’m just teasing. But if it means anything he asked me for your full name. Anyhow, I gotta get to that table in the back, I’ll see you later,” Barry claps his hand on Dan’s shoulder as he walks away.

By the time Dan got home that night he was exhausted. He had just enough strength to unlock the door to his apartment and walk the few feet it took to reach his bed and collapse on the mattress in a heap. As he was drifting off, Arin’s face came into his head. _Shit_ , Dan thought, _I never looked at the drawing he made me_. He rolled over excitedly despite his fatigue and grabbed his apron, fishing his hand around in the pockets for the piece of paper. This time Arin had drawn Dan sitting opposite him in the booth—his eyes were cast down, but the corners of his mouth were upturned as if he were remembering something happy. Dan can’t remember if he smiled or not, or if it was Arin’s own invention.

He turned the paper over, looking to see if Arin had left any note this time. In the upper right hand corner there was a phone number, followed by a short message. _In case you want to talk_. Dan grabbed his phone and put the number in his contacts, wondering what he should even say in his message, or if he should call. Would Arin think it was weird if he called? Maybe just a text, then. Suddenly Dan felt anxious, thinking about all the ways he could make himself seem like even more of a washout. He decides not to text Arin tonight, and sleeps on it until the morning.

When he dreams that night, it’s of Arin’s smile and graphite smudged fingers.


End file.
